


he's a friend (is he?)

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Kidnapping, M/M, Slow Build, Yennefer's just here for a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22123600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Cirilla will fix Geralt's mistakes (with or without his permission). Starting with finding that damned bard.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 160
Kudos: 3553





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> warning: this is prob not gonna be very good - i just wanted to do smth w geralt ciri & yen (later) getting together to save jaskier and geralt discovering his feelings along the way and my health has still been on and off and im suffering and want a distraction pls & thank u
> 
> common disclaimer ive only seen the show so... canon who?
> 
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

Geralt did not miss Jaskier. He didn’t. He walked down the dirt road with Roach, Cirilla on her back. He had company, more than enough, more than he usually _wanted_ even.

Cirilla kept going on about everything she’d experienced in search of him. Geralt had to admit she was a strong little thing for surviving so long, especially on her own.

But then, she said something that got under his skin. “I was weirdly always surrounded by people?” she leaned forward and lightly hugged Roach’s neck. “First it was Dara. Then- ”

He admittedly stopped listening after that.

Cirilla must’ve noticed because eventually she nudged him with her foot. He grunted as he looked up at her.

“You never did tell me about Yennefer.”

Geralt sighed heavily and looked away. He still wasn’t sure how the princess even knew about Yennefer.

“She’s a sorceress,” he explained plainly. He didn’t offer any other information.

Cirilla sighed dramatically. “Wow, you are annoying,” she remarked.

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, so no information on Yennefer. Got it.” She shifted on Roach, staring down at him. “I have other questions.”

Geralt grunted. “Like what?”

“Do you know what I am?” she asked hopefully.

Geralt hesitated. “Yes, and no.”

Cirilla narrowed her eyes. “You’re _annoyingly_ cryptic, you know?”

“You’re annoyingly nosy,” he shot back.

Pouting, Cirilla sat back on Roach and watched the sky. Geralt watched her for a second, weighing his options.

“We can’t be sure of anything,” he said finally. Cirilla looked at him. “But I believe you, and your mother, are Sources. Wielders of great power.”

Cirilla looked away. She frowned sadly whether at the mention of her mother or the new information, Geralt wasn’t sure.

“I can… do things, but. I- I can’t control it.”

Geralt nodded. Roach neighed.

“You’ve never been taught to,” he conceded. “Doesn’t mean you can’t.”

Cirilla looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “Did my mother ever learn?” she asked desperately. “Grandmother never told me about any of this.”

Geralt hmmed thoughtfully. “She thought she was protecting you,” he said eventually. “She hoped you would never need to learn of your powers.”

Cirilla pursed her lips. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Your mother did not. Like you, her emotions controlled her.”

Cirilla nodded. Roach knocked Geralt with her snout.

“How were your travels?” she asked after a moment.

Geralt raised both eyebrows, waiting.

“I told you all about my travels, finding you.” Cirilla held her head high. “What about you?”

Geralt snorted. “You did that on your own.” Cirilla just stared at him, unblinking. “Fine. My travels were… fine. I killed some monsters, met some people. Found you.”

Cirilla leaned toward him. “Monsters?” she asked with open interest.

Geralt rolled his eyes but told her all about his adventures. All about each monster, the curses. He barely realized he’d mentioned Jaskier until Cirilla asked:

“Who’s Jaskier?”

Geralt stopped suddenly. Roach stopped with him. “Why?” he asked in way of a reply.

“Why don’t you want to tell me?” she asked, squinting at him. Geralt grunted. “That’s not an answer.”

Geralt sighed deeply. “He’s a…”

“Friend?” she supplied helpfully.

Geralt clenched his jaw. “He _was_ a friend,” he said tersely.

Cirilla was silent for a moment. “I’m so sorry,” she said, sincere. “I shouldn’t have- ”

Geralt ignored the painful churning in his stomach. “He’s not dead,” he interrupted gruffly.

“Oh,” she breathed.

Geralt nodded curtly and started to walk again, pulling Roach with him. Cirilla was silent again.

“What happened to him, then?” she asked. “If he isn’t dead.”

Geralt thought about not replying. He didn’t have to.

“We had a fight,” he said eventually.

It was an understatement, frankly, but Cirilla didn’t need to know that.

“What kind of fight?” she asked after a few seconds.

Geralt sighed heavily. He had a feeling she’d just keep pestering him if he didn’t answer. “I… blamed him.”

“For what?” she asked, obviously growing impatient.

Geralt shrugged sharply. “Everything?”

Cirilla stared at him, obviously waiting for more information.

Geralt sighed. “I’d been… through a lot and he was there for all of it.” He looked away. “So… I kind of blamed him for all of it happening.”

Cirilla was frowning when he looked up at her. “But _was_ he at fault for all the bad things happening?”

Geralt let out a breath. “No,” he answered truthfully.

“Sounds like he just stayed by your side and got in shite for it,” she said blandly.

The corners of Geralt’s mouth quirked up in a smirk. “Watch your mouth, princess,” he said, not seriously.

After all Cirilla had been through, he wasn’t about to treat her like a child. Not in some ways, at least. It’d be insulting.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” she said confidently. “You had a friend and pushed him away for nothing.”

Geralt opened his mouth, closed it. “He would’ve eventually gotten bored and left, anyway.”

Cirilla didn’t respond. He assumed that was the end of the conversation until they entered a town and grabbed a room at the local inn.

Cirilla washed up and reappeared, looking much better. She joined Geralt on the bed.

“We’re going to find him and fix your mistake,” she announced to the room.

Geralt looked over at her. “What?”

Cirilla patted her thighs. “You messed up. Thankfully, you found me and I’m going to help you get your friend back.” Sadness flashed across her face like perhaps she was remembering something. "Before it's too late."

Geralt grunted. “I don’t need your help.”

“Don’t be so modest,” she said with a toothy grin. It was the first real smile he’d seen from her. “You have many talents, Geralt of Rivia, but you’re a little… emotionally stunted.”

He stared at her, unblinking.

“So,” she was not intimidated in the slightest, “where should we start?”

Geralt almost laughed. He barely resisted, looking away. “I left him far from here. I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Which was the truth.

Cirilla didn’t look deterred. “You mentioned he was, uh- a bard, right?”

Geralt looked back at her. “So?”

Beaming, she looked out the window. “So, we’ll follow the music.”

" _Now_ who's being annoyingly cryptic?" he asked blandly.

Cirilla rolled her eyes and waved him off. "Sleep first. We'll start searching first thing in the morning."

Geralt was admittedly amused. Anyway, he didn't think they'd actually find the bard. He was probably off in a town, playing music for the townsfolk and wowing girls. Hopefully still making money off Geralt's name and adventures. It was the least he could give him. There was no real harm in searching for a few days just to satisfy Cirilla's curiosity. 

"Okay," he said, finally standing up. "Goodnight, Ciri."

She smiled up at him and something softened in his chest. "Goodnight, Geralt."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u guys enjoy <3 remember canon means nothing to me & ive only ever seen the show
> 
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

Geralt woke up to Cirilla standing over him. He startled, sitting up so fast they almost bumped heads. “What the fuck?

Cirilla just smiled brightly as she turned and walked away. “The innkeeper has drawn a bath for you.”

That’s when he noticed her hair was damp.

Sighing, he swung his legs off the bed and stretched for a second. Cirilla stood near the burning candles, lighting the whole room in a soft, yellow glow.

He stood up. “Are you okay, Cirilla?”

She hummed and turned. “Just tired,” she said with a smaller smile. “Go on, before the water gets cold.”

Geralt headed for the door but paused.

“I know you think you’re doing something good for me,” _which I won’t deny,_ “but we don’t have to do this.”

Cirilla watched him. “I’m not doing this strictly for you,” she said, looking away. She stared at the candles again. “I want to be reminded of the good in this world again.”

The corners of Geralt’s mouth quirked up in a smirk. “And you think finding a bard will help you with that?”

Cirilla smiled softly. “The way you spoke of him?” She peeked over at him, something knowing in her expression. Geralt didn’t like it. “Yes.”

He turned away and left the room, suddenly feeling itchy.

He bathed quickly and rejoined Cirilla, who was waiting for him in the small lobby of the inn. He left the innkeeper a tip and left with Cirilla on his heels.

Roach neighed loudly at his reappearance and he let out a huff of laughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, scratching behind one of her ears.

Cirilla watched, amused, until he turned toward her and nodded at the horse.

“You know, I don’t mind riding on the back,” she said, arms folding over her chest.

Geralt opened his mouth, closed it. Obviously he did not have much of an argument. “Okay,” he agreed, throwing a leg up and over Roach. 

He situated himself before Cirilla climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around Geralt.

“Ready, princess?”

Cirilla pursed her lips. “Stop calling me that,” she said. “And yes.”

Cirilla’s master plan was very basic. Quite literally she wanted to go back to the last place Geralt had seen him, which were the mountains. Geralt hadn’t been there since they went their separate ways.

He suggested it probably wasn’t a good idea, but Cirilla was not being swayed.

It was a long travel. At least a few days.

That still did not sway Cirilla, who just nodded and squared her shoulders. “Okay, I’m prepared.”

Geralt had rolled his eyes. Cirilla was stubborn, just like her grandmother.

They traveled for a few hours before taking a break for food. Proper food, since Geralt thought Cirilla deserved at least that.

So, they entered the small pub and Cirilla stayed by his side.

Geralt put a hand on her shoulder, glaring daggers at the patrons of the pub. He found them a table in the corner and sat down across from her.

Cirilla glanced around the pub with wide, curious eyes.

Geralt waved down one of the waitresses. A pretty, thin girl with curly red hair.

“Hello,” she greeted brightly.

Jaskier had obviously done well for his reputation. None of the patrons seemed worried or concerned about his presence.

“Two large plates of your special,” he said automatically. He wasn’t a picky eater, hoped Cirilla was the same.

She didn’t say anything, so that was a good sign.

The waitress nodded and started to turn but paused for just a second. “Your daughter is adorable,” she cooed in Geralt’s direction.

He bristled. “Wha- ”

But she had already walked off.

He looked over at Cirilla, who was covering her mouth and giggling. He frowned deeply.

“What’s so funny?”

She smiled softly. “In a way, you are kind of like my father…” she said, a little wistfully.

Geralt looked down. He suddenly wished he’d ordered a beer for him. “Not really,” he grunted.

“They never told me what happened with you and my parents,” she said. “Can you?”

He hesitated for just a second before nodding. He told her the whole story about that night. Cirilla listened intently.

“You saved my father,” she said.

Geralt opened his mouth, closed it.

Cirilla smiled ruefully. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “Sorry it didn’t last.”

Cirilla stiffened for a brief second before relaxing again. “Not your fault,” she whispered just before the food arrived, thankfully.

After that, they left the pub and started up again. Not before Geralt fed Roach a few treats.

Cirilla talked a lot. She reminded him of Jaskier in that regard. Geralt found himself not minding very much, hmming and nodding at all the right parts.

Hours later, Geralt stopped at a small town after Cirilla’s sixth or so yawn.

“But- ” she started, obviously displeased.

Geralt just planted a hand on her head. “You need sleep,” he stated simply. “We’ll keep going in the morning.”

Cirilla pouted and brushed his hand off. “Fine,” she grumbled, following Geralt into the small inn.

Geralt was woken by Cirilla shaking his shoulder. His first instinct was to grab his sword before remembering _right_ , it's just Cirilla. He opened his eyes and peered at her. It was still so dark he knew for certain she probably couldn't see him, but thanks to his mutant abilities _he_ could see _her_.

"Get up," she cheered. "I think I heard something useful."

Geralt grumbled, slowly sitting up. "It couldn't wait until morning," he said blandly. It wasn't a question.

Cirilla paused for a moment. "No," she decided finally. "I was thirsty, okay, so I went to gather some water," she explained quickly, "and I heard the innkeeper talking with a patron."

"Riveting," he deadpanned.

Cirilla smacked his arm and he startled, genuinely surprised. He squinted at her.

"She was talking about you," she said sternly. "About how the wondrous Geralt of Rivia was staying at her inn."

Geralt just kept silent, staring at her.

"Well, the patron mentioned how she'd just heard about Geralt from a talented bard a few towns over," she continued breezily. Geralt could see her eyes in the darkness, bright and sparkly. "Sound familiar?"

Geralt ignored the weird tightness in his chest and shifted, lighting one of the candles near the bed, just for something to do. " _Just_ is a very loose term," he said, looking back at the young girl. "Differs from person to person. How do we know it was recently enough to be useful?"

"That's a fair point," she agreed, nodding solemnly. "That's why you should ask. It was the patron in room 11."

Geralt raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"

Cirilla opened her mouth, closed it. Shuffled her feet. "I might've followed them after." Geralt let out a harsh huff of something like laughter and she flushed. "Just to check their room number! Nothing bad."

"Of course," he drawled. "And how do you think I'll explain why I'm asking?"

Cirilla shrugged. "You'll think of something. Come on," she tugged on his arm. "Time is of the utmost importance."

Geralt rolled his eyes. This was utterly pointless, but there was no harm in asking if it meant pleasing Cirilla and getting her off his back. "Fine. Gather your things. I'll ask."

Beaming, she let go of his arm and nodded. 

The patron in room 11 was an elderly woman of all things. Geralt almost felt bad for interrupting her sleep.

"Hello," she greeted, looking surprised but not disappointed. She eyed him openly. "How can I help you?"

He tried smiling. Probably did not succeed. He shook it off and cleared his throat. "My companion heard you last night talking with the innkeeper. Accidentally," he added quickly. "You mentioned something of a bard?"

The woman tilted her head back and forth, like she was thinking. " _Oh!_ " she said finally. "The bard, yes. He was a lovely thing."

Geralt ignored the lump in his throat. "Where did you see him?"

The woman confirmed that it was, indeed, a few towns over. Geralt was not hopeful. Really. He stared at her, dreading the answer to his next question. 

"How long ago was that?" he asked, tensing without even realizing it.

The woman tapped her chin. "Four- five months ago," she answered with a nod.

Geralt was almost angry. Cirilla and her stupid fucking snooping. Nothing but bullshit and false hope, like much of everything else in the world. He nodded curtly. "Thank you."

The woman smiled politely and waved as he turned and stomped off.

"I was trying to help," she argued, not backing down. "Sorry it's not the answer you were looking for."

Geralt shoved the last of his things in his bag and threw it over his shoulder. "A bard doesn't stay in the same town for _four_ months, Cirilla," he said, a little too harsh. "This was pointless and- "

"We should still check," she interrupted, stepping forward. "Maybe your bard friend wanted to settle down."

Geralt almost laughed. "You definitely have never met Jaskier," he mumbled under his breath.

"I haven't," she confirmed, surprisingly soft, "but I want to."

He sighed heavily and turned toward her. "We can check," he said finally, "but then I'm done."

Cirilla stared at him. Geralt had the sickening feeling she was seeing right through him. "Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yen finally makes an appearance she's just here to tease tf out of geralt no worries

Geralt knew Jaskier would be long gone. A part of a bard's life was traveling from town to town, never letting the townsfolk get bored of them. But he needed to satisfy Cirilla's curiosity if he wanted them to move on, so he fetched Roach and hopped on, Cirilla crawling up after him.

She wrapped her arms around his waist as Roach took off. 

"You're mad at me," she said after a few minutes of riding.

Geralt grunted in reply. He wasn't _mad_ , really, just irritated. There was a reason he didn't get attached to humans- they were always leaving, one way or the other. Jaskier was one of many. 

"Geralt," she said, a bit pleading.

He sighed. "I'm not mad. I'm just... I'm tired of losing people I care about," he admitted gruffly.

First Yennefer, now Jaskier. Maybe it was a sign that Geralt truly was meant to be alone. Well, he thought, glancing back at Cirilla. In some ways, at least.

"I know how that feels," she whispered, and Geralt frowned, realizing she was right. "That's why I want to help you find Jaskier." She squeezed him in a tight hug. "I'm sorry."

Geralt's heart lurched at the apology. "Don't," he grunted. "Just... swear you'll stop after this, okay?"

He couldn't keep fostering hope just to be disappointed. 

Cirilla was silent. "Okay," she agreed finally. "But I still think you should keep looking."

"I'll keep your very valued opinion in mind," he drawled.

Cirilla pinched him through his many layers. "Asshole," she muttered lowly.

"What did I say about watching your mouth?" he replied breezily. He smiled, small, at Cirilla's groan.

Geralt pulled into a small town despite Cirilla's protests. "We can't make the trip in one day," he explained plainly, not backing down. 

She pursed her lips but nodded, pulling her hood up. He noticed she did that a lot, for good reason.

The only inn in town was rundown and kind of gross, but Geralt had stayed in worse places. Cirilla's nose scrunched up, probably at the smell, but she didn't complain.

There was only one room, but that was fine. Geralt gave Cirilla the bed and made a pallet on the floor.

He reached up and pinched the wick of the candle between his fingers, masking the room in darkness. Sighing, he laid down and closed his eyes. He listened, idly, as Cirilla wiggled and stopped, wiggled and stopped.

"Having issues, princess?" he asked, not opening his eyes.

She huffed and stopped moving. "What will you do?" she asked. "If you find him."

Geralt breathed out, slow. "I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't thought about it." Mostly because he still didn't think they'd find him, but she didn't need to hear that.

"You should," she said firmly. "The first thing you say to him will be important."

Geralt almost smiled. "Really?" 

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "You probably..." she paused. "You should probably apologize, too."

Geralt was not good at apologies. He sighed heavily. "I'll think about it," he said, leaving it at that.

"Okay, good," she said. 

He assumed she would sleep after that. She didn't. 

"Can I ask something?"

Geralt could say no or, better yet, he could just say nothing at all. He didn't. "What?"

"Do you... Never mind," she said. He opened his eyes and peeked over at her. Her back was turned to him. "It's dumb. Goodnight, Geralt."

"Goodnight," he said after a moment, closing his eyes again.

Geralt was the first up in the morning. He went to the window and peeked through the curtains. It was a beautiful, sunny day. Sighing, he walked over and gently jostled Cirilla. She groaned and rolled over. 

"It's morning," he said. "Get up."

She was up in seconds. "Do you think we'll reach the town by tomorrow?"

He shrugged. "Depends. Possibly."

Cirilla beamed and threw the blanket off her. Geralt noted her clothes, dirty and torn. 

"But there's something we should do first," he said. Cirilla blinked at him. "Follow me."

The town was so small there were hardly any stalls selling food nevertheless clothes or other necessities. Geralt bought her a new pair of shoes, at least. 

"We'll get you new clothes soon," he said after, watching as she pulled on the boots.

She looked up, an odd look on her face. "We don't have to," she said, tugging at her coat. "I'm fine."

Geralt grunted. He wasn't going to listen, of course. "Come on," he said once she was finished, turning around and walking back to Roach.

He glanced back at her and noticed she had stopped a few feet away, smiling down at her shoes.

He looked away and cleared his throat. "Hurry up if you don't want to be left."

"You wouldn't!" she shouted as she ran over.

She was right: he wouldn't.

They only stopped once during the day for food. Geralt caught a deer and roasted it over the fire Cirilla had started on her own. 

He sat down and they both enjoyed their food, listening to the distant sound of crickets.

Cirilla kept looking at him when she thought he wasn't looking, which was- "Do you need something?"

She startled and looked down, shaking her head firmly. 

Geralt did not buy it. "Do you want more?" he asked, extending his half-cleaned bone in her direction.

Cirilla looked up and smiled lightly, shaking her head again.

"Okay," he nodded, pulling his hand back. "Why do you keep staring at me, then?"

Cirilla shrugged, looking out into the line of trees, green and lush. "I wanted to ask you something, but. I don't know. It's probably dumb and- and you won't answer, anyway."

Geralt leaned back, taking a large bite of meat. "Try me," he said around the mouthful, raising both eyebrows.

She smiled again, but pointedly did not look back. Sighing, she looked down and folded her hands together in her lap. She stared at her worn gloves. "Geralt... I- " she bit her bottom lip, looking up through her eyelashes. "Do you have feelings for Jaskier?"

He had been expecting many questions, like maybe something about Yennefer (Cirilla hadn't mentioned her again), but definitely not _that_. He stared at her, unblinking, not really comprehending. "What?"

"Okay, yup, that was exactly what I was expecting," she said quickly. "I- I have to- " she stood up, gesturing toward the woods. "I'll be right back."

Geralt was still staring at her spot long after she'd moved from it. What the _fuck?_

Cirilla returned a few minutes later and smartly didn't mention it again. 

Geralt, just as smartly, did not ask her about it again. He nodded at Roach, who stomped at the attention. "Ready?"

With a small smile, she nodded. Geralt mounted Roach and Cirilla climbed on after. Her question played through his mind on an endless loop. 

_Feelings?_ Jaskier was a friend. Perhaps Cirilla hadn't had enough of them to understand the difference.

Shaking his head, he focused on the dirt path ahead of them.

It was early in the morning when Geralt jostled Cirilla out of her slumber. She blinked blearily. "Wh- what is it?"

"We're almost at the town," he answered. "We should get off, give Roach a break."

Roach neighed at the suggestion, looking much too pleased for a horse. Geralt snorted and climbed off first, helping Cirilla down after. As soon as her feet touched the dirt, she was pointing behind Geralt.

"Who- who are you?" she asked tersely.

Geralt reached for his sword as he turned around, prepared for the worst. He stopped as soon as he saw- 

" _Yen?_ " he asked in disbelief.

Cirilla blinked twice before rushing forward, looking between the two of them. "That's Yennefer?"

Geralt's expression hardened a bit. He hadn't seen her since- 

"What are you doing here?" he asked gruffly. "Were... were you _following_ us?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Yennefer put her hands in the air in mock surrender. "Stop flattering yourself. I was simply moving in the same direction when I saw you... and..." Her eyes, smudged with darkness, like always, settled on Cirilla curiously. "Who is _this?_ "

Geralt stepped in front of her protectively. Cirilla grabbed his arm. "I'm Cirilla," she said. "Ciri."

Her eyes widened. "The Child Surprise," she muttered under her breath. Smiling like a shark, she stepped forward and extended a hand, wiggling her fingers. "Yennefer."

Geralt frowned as Cirilla stepped forward and shook her hand. "I- I know," she said. "Somehow."

Yennefer smiled sweetly, glancing at Geralt again. "Tell me, what are you two doing over in this direction?"

"None of your- " he started, but was cut off by Cirilla. 

"We're searching for one of Geralt's friends," she said, like he had many. "Jaskier."

Yennefer stared at her oddly. "Searching?" She cut her eyes at Geralt. "Do you not know where your little bard is?"

Geralt pressed his lips together. He did not dignify her with an answer. He didn't have to.

"They had a fight," Cirilla said. "He's going to find him and mend things," she explained confidently.

Yennefer let out a huff of laughter. "Oh, I'd _pay_ to be witness to that," she said with a smirk. "Geralt, apologizing?"

Geralt grunted. "Enough," he turned away and grabbed Roach's lead. "Come on, Ciri."

"Oh- okay, right," Cirilla said quickly. But not before, "do you want to walk with us the rest of the way, Yennefer?"

Geralt paused. Reaching up, he scrubbed a hand over his face. It was way too early for this. 

"I would _love_ that, Cirilla," she answered, sickeningly sweet. "Lead the way."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we finally getting somewhere babies!
> 
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

God - or _whoever_ was controlling things, destiny, perhaps - obviously hated Geralt. Yennefer and Cirilla talked cheerily, following behind him as he headed down the path.

“Geralt,” Cirilla said after a moment.

He turned and looked at her, wide-eyed and grinning.

“Look!” she exclaimed just as Yennefer made a orb of purple, glowing light in the palm of her hand. “She can _control_ it,” she said excitedly.

Geralt stared at her silently.

“Can you teach me?” she asked Yennefer.

Yennefer smiled and patted her head. “I can show you a few things,” she conceded.

Geralt grunted and turned back around, continuing up again. Roach nudged him and he sighed. “I’m okay, girl,” he muttered. He finally caught a glimpse of the town and sighed again. “We’re here,” he announced.

Cirilla jogged up and looked. “It’s much bigger than the others town we’ve been staying in,” she said conversationally.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Yennefer cooed. “Come on, before all the good rooms are taken.”

Geralt frowned deeply. “You have the coins for it?”

“I have my own ways of getting money, thank you very much,” she replied flippantly, leading Cirilla by a hand on her shoulder.

Rolling his eyes, he tugged on Roach’s lead. “Come on.”

Yennefer was not joking- Geralt watched with wide eyes as she pulled out a bulging bag of coins, paying for two rooms.

He only thought to ask about that after. “Two?”

“Is there any reason she can’t stay with me?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Geralt stared at her. “Why are you being so… _nice_ to her?” he asked.

Yennefer pressed her lips together. “Do I need a reason?” she asked, a bit sharp. “I’m taking your silence as a yes,” she added, turning away. “Come on, Cirilla.”

Cirilla nodded, pausing for just a second. “Geralt, do you mind?”

He sighed. His room was right across the hall- he would be able to hear if Yennefer tried anything. “No,” he said tersely. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

She smiled lightly before turning and catching up to Yennefer. “Call me Ciri.”

Shaking his head, he walked to his room. It _was_ a nice inn, at least, and he soon had the innkeeper draw up a bath for him. Sitting in the scorching hot water- just the way he liked it- he laid his head back and closed his eyes.

What would he say if he found Jaskier?

Could he even expect forgiveness from the bard, after all the brutal things he’d said? Blaming him for things he had no control over?

Geralt sighed to the empty room. Well, he’d probably never know.

He went to sleep after that and was woken up by the sound of knocking at his door. Scrubbing his hand down his face, he sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed.

“Who is it?” he called. No answer.

Sighing, he stood up and walked over, opening the door.

“Yennefer,” he greeted tersely.

Yennefer hummed, eyeing him. “Cirilla seems mighty convinced of something,” she said. “I can’t say I’m not curious, too.”

Geralt blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about,” she replied, promptly ignoring his frown. “So, it’s morning. Time to start the manhunt for your missing little bard.”

Geralt sighed. “I did not ask for your help.”

“Hmm, true,” she said, already turning away, “but Cirilla sure did.”

He was going to have a talk with her.

“Where do we begin?” Cirilla asked, looking around with wide eyes. “The town is… _bigger_ than I expected,” she admitted sheepishly.

Geralt snorted.

“We should split up,” Yennefer said. “Meet back up here in, say, an hour.”

Geralt glanced at Cirilla. Yennefer rolled her eyes.

“She’ll be fine,” she said, gently patting the young girl on the back.

Cirilla nodded in agreement. “Just an hour,” she conceded.

Geralt hesitated for just a moment longer. “Okay,” he agreed. “Just- be safe,” he added gruffly.

“Of course,” she said brightly. “Good luck!”

Geralt watched as the young girl pulled her hood up and ran off. Yennefer stepped closer to him. “I never pegged you as the… _fatherly_ type,” she drawled, arms crossed over her chest.

Geralt stiffened. “I’m not,” he said automatically.

“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes again. She walked off without another word.

Geralt sighed loudly and turned around, walking in the opposite direction. He searched a few shops, asked some vendors of carts, no sign of Jaskier. This was a bust, just like he thought.

Until- “you’re asking about a bard?”

He stopped and turned. A young woman stood a few feet away, wringing her hands nervously.

Geralt nodded. “Have you seen him?” He indicated his height with his hand. “About this tall, dressed up, singing about- ” he sighed “- the White Wolf.”

The woman nodded, shuffling closer. “The- um. No one is supposed to speak of it,” she said, glancing around nervously.

Geralt stared at her. “Speak of what?” he asked slowly.

“The, um. The king,” she said quickly. “He- he banned us of speaking about it.”

Geralt was not a patient man even on his best days. “Spit it out,” he said.

The woman startled and nodded quickly. “The king discovered this… bard you speak of,” she explained, lowering her voice. “He thought he was amazing, asked him if he’d be interested in being the castle’s main bard.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “And what happened after that?”

“The bard- ”

“ _Jaskier_ ,” he intercepted.

“Right, Jaskier told him he wasn’t interested. Said he, uh- liked being free.”

Geralt looked down, nearly smiled. That definitely _sounded_ like him.

“The king… wasn’t happy; he- he ordered his guards to grab him and dragged him back to the castle. I- I’m not certain what happened after that,” she said. “But… no one’s seen him since the incident.”

Geralt looked up, eyes hardened. He was afraid of- but, no, he couldn’t think like that. He turned away and stormed off, ignoring the woman’s cries of “ _stop!_ ” and “ _don’t let the king know it was me!_ ”

He wouldn’t, of course.

“Cirilla,” he called out in the market. “Cirilla!”

Sure enough he saw her a few seconds later. “Geralt,” she said. “What is it? It hasn’t been an hour yet.” She frowned. “Has it?”

He took a deep breath. “I think I found him.”

“Wh- what?” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm. “Where?”

Geralt pressed his lips together. “I- ”

“Did I hear right?” Yennefer intercepted, coming up behind the young girl. “You found your little missing bard?” She extended her arms. “Well, time for a celebration.”

Geralt stared at her. Her arms lowered.

“Oh,” she said simply.

Cirilla looked between them. “Wh- what is it?”

“He was taken by the king,” Geralt said evenly.

Cirilla frowned. “Is- is he okay?” she asked, tugging on his arm. “Why?”

Geralt shrugged sharply. “Greedy, selfish royalty,” he answered, harshly. Cirilla visibly winced and he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s- it’s okay,” she said, nodding.

Yennefer stalked closer. “Do we even know if he’s…” she trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

Geralt ignored the tightness in his chest, new and uncomfortable. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He’d imagined many things, but never Jaskier’s death. He didn’t like thinking of the bard’s humanity, mortality.

“We’re going to check, though, right?” Cirilla asked, tugging on his arm.

He peered down at her. “ _I_ will,” he corrected. “You should stay here with Yennefer.”

Cirilla pursed her lips. “Absolutely not.” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Try me and see what happens,” she added, crossing her arms.

Sighing, he admitted defeat. “Fine. But you do exactly what I say. Understand?”

Cirilla beamed. “Yes.” She turned to look at Yennefer. “What about you?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Well,” she said eventually. “Why not?”


	5. Chapter 5

Geralt pointed at Cirilla. “Stay here,” he said firmly. “Wait until I give the okay.”

Cirilla pouted, standing by Yennefer’s side. “But- ”

“He’s right, Ciri,” she interrupted. “We should wait.”

Geralt looked up. “Wh- you’re agreeing with me?” he asked suspiciously, squinting at Yennefer.

“You’re not always wrong, Geralt,” she said primly, “just often.”

Cirilla rolled her eyes. “Just go,” she huffed. “Before- ” she hesitated. “Before something bad happens.” She’d been royalty long enough to know kings and queens did not take well to being turned down.

Geralt nodded curtly and turned around, heading up the stone path to the doors of the castle. Two guards stood in front of the doors.

“Do you think they’ll let him in?” Cirilla asked quietly, leaning up on her tiptoes to get a better look. The guards were saying something.

Yennefer placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’s many things,” she said. “Stubborn is top of the list, for better or worse. He’ll find a way.”

Sure enough the guards stepped to the side and opened the doors. Geralt looked back at them and waved.

“Play along,” Yennefer whispered before starting up the path.

Cirilla blinked once before following after her. “What do you mean?”

“These are… your helpers?” one of the guards asked skeptically. “A child, and a woman?”

Yennefer glared daggers.

“Yes,” Geralt replied quickly. “I told you, I need to speak to the king. Like I mentioned, there’s something… dangerous in the air.”

Cirilla looked at him curiously.

“Right, Yennefer?” he asked tersely.

She nodded solemnly. “Very potent,” she agreed. “Your king might be in danger.”

The guards stared at them for a moment longer before nodding. The taller guard stepped forward, sheathing his weapon. “I’ll be your guide, then,” he decided. “Follow me.”

Geralt nodded curtly and started to follow the guard. Yennefer pushed Cirilla in front of her, placing her in the middle, and followed, making up the back.

The guard didn’t speak much, just led them through halls and halls until finally he stopped in front of an embellished door.

Clearing his throat, the guard lifted his hand and knocked twice.

Nothing. Geralt glanced at Yennefer, who simply shrugged and stepped forward. “Is your king… preoccupied?” she asked slowly.

“No, shouldn’t be- ” The guard stopped and sighed. “Right, the party.”

Geralt breathed out, heavily, through his nose. “What party?” he asked, unimpressed.

“The king has parties at the end of every week,” he explained, turning on his heels and facing the group. “He’s probably in the ballroom, preparing things.”

Yennefer smiled sharply. “Well, lead the way.”

“Uh,” the guard cleared his throat again. “He doesn’t like being… interrup- ”

Geralt stepped forward, shoulders squared, head held high. The guard visibly cowered, shutting up.

“Um. Follow me,” he said, turning away.

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “What a beastly way of handling things.”

“Worked,” he replied simply.

Cirilla giggled lightly as she followed after the pair.

The ballroom would’ve been impossible to miss even without a guide- two large blue doors with gold embellishments. The guard smiled tightly. “Please, do not mention my name.”

Yennefer pushed him out of the way. “Won’t, because I don’t know it,” she said blandly, reaching for the doors.

The guard ran off, like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Shaking her head, Yennefer opened the doors. The first thing Geralt noticed was the decorations, as intended- it was a beautiful ballroom with splashes of blue and gold.

The second was the music- or, more importantly, the voice singing.

Geralt’s heart lurched in his chest, almost painful, as his eyes searched the room, looking for- “Jaskier,” he breathed.

Jaskier was standing near the back of the room, playing and singing. Next to him were two thrones, and the king- Geralt, assumed- was sitting in one of them, watching Jaskier intently.

Finally the king looked up, acknowledging them with a scowl. “Who are you?” he asked sharply, and the question made Jaskier turn and look, eyes widening. “And how did you get in here?”

Geralt noticed, then, Jaskier’s face, covered in scrapes and bruises and fucking dried blood. What the fuck.

“A guard let us in,” Yennefer said. “We’re not here for you, no worries.” She nodded at Jaskier. “We just want the bard.”

Geralt’s skin burned with anger. “What did you do?” he snarled, stepping forward. “Jaskier, are you- ”

But then the damnedest thing happened; Jaskier looked away.

“I don’t know what you’re going on about,” the king said. “Guards!”

Geralt turned around, ready for a fight, but Cirilla rushed forward and blocked the doors with a couple chairs. He relaxed a little and nodded in approval, turning back.

The king looked less confident as he stood up, alone, to face them. “The bard belongs to me,” he said, sending a shiver through Geralt’s body. “I feed him- ”

Yennefer stepped forward, an unexpected fire in her eyes. “He is not an animal,” she said. “Jaskier, come here,” she said.

He didn’t look at them, just stared at a spot on the floor. Geralt noticed something else, then- there was a chain wrapped around the bard’s ankle, connecting to the wall.

“You’re…” he started. “You’re literally treating him like an animal,” he said, barely loud enough for the others to hear. Geralt’s fingers twitched at his side. There was a loud rushing in his ears.

Yennefer was shouting something, he could tell, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He stepped forward and reached for his sword. The king might’ve been a human, but he deserved death more than any monster.

“Geralt!” Yennefer yelled, finally breaking through, and he stopped. He was right in front of the king.

The king, who was frozen.

“What?” he asked.

Cirilla was at Yennefer’s side, holding onto her arm, looking equal parts worried and scared. “You said you don’t kill humans,” Yennefer said after a beat, nodding at the king.

Geralt stared at her, almost disbelieving. She had to be kidding. “He deserves it.”

Yennefer smiled, a bit ruefully. “He deserves a painful, slow death,” she agreed, “but will killing him really make you feel better?”

“I- ” Geralt looked away from her and his eyes landed, settling on, Jaskier. He lowered his sword and stepped toward him. “Jaskier.”

Jaskier visibly flinched, looking away. “What are you doing here, Geralt?”

“What am I doing here?” he repeated. “I’m saving your fucking life.”

Jaskier looked up sharply. “You- you have- no right to pretend to be a hero!” he exclaimed, and Geralt took a step back, genuinely startled. “Especially my hero. You can’t just- push me away and then- and then do this!” He gestured around wildly. “You’re- you’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Geralt frowned, deep lines forming around his mouth. Yennefer stepped forward and did a slicing motion with her hand, breaking the chain. “We can do this later,” she said tersely, “my magic won’t hold forever.”

Jaskier stared at her, something unreadable in his eyes. “Fine,” he said after a few seconds, stomping to the doors without even a look in Geralt’s direction.

Geralt expected to be… happy. Or something. He just felt empty. Like all the humans imagined he did, every second of every day, but it wasn’t true. Normally. Right now, though, he oddly felt like the monster humans said he was.

“Come on.”

Geralt looked down at Cirilla, tugging on his arm. He nodded silently.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these boys are........... so dumb  
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

Jaskier was quiet. Geralt was even quieter. Cirilla shared whispers with Yennefer. If he really tried, he could probably hear them but he was all out of energy for the day and just silently walked the path to the inn.

Jaskier finally said something once they reached it, a skeptical look on his face.

“Who can afford this?” he asked, pointedly looking away from Geralt.

Geralt ignored the weird feeling tucked away behind his ribs. Painful and aching. Yennefer smiled, just a little tight.

“I did,” she answered.

Jaskier didn’t look any less skeptical but he nodded anyway and entered the inn. Yennefer followed seconds after. Geralt barely realized he was stuck to his spot until Cirilla appeared in his vision.

She stared up at him with a soft, worried look on her face. “Geralt?”

“I… I think I need to- ” he sighed. “Not be here.”

Cirilla frowned. “Geralt,” she said, reaching for his arm. But he pulled back, a little too fast, and she nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back,” he assured her.

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked off toward no real destination. Geralt found himself in the woods, at a stream, watching the roaring water.

He thought of Jaskier. Of the djinn, too. A lot of humans think witchers have no emotions, but that simply wasn’t true- they had plenty of them. Their emotions were usually just muted, comparatively, and easily ignored, also comparatively.

Didn’t mean they weren’t there, eating away at them.

Geralt remembered the fear, the sharp, all-consuming fear of thinking Jaskier might be dying. In his arms, no less, begging for help- _his_ help.

Because no matter what he did or how he pushed him away Jaskier always showed up again, still trusting him.

And he was right to, because Geralt would never let Jaskier get hurt if he could help it. _But you did,_ his brain echoed. Just not physically.

Taking a shaky breath, he turned away from the stream.

Geralt returned to the inn and vaguely heard yelling. He quickly recognized the voice: Jaskier. He rushed to his room, opening the door, and relaxed when he saw Jaskier standing there, arms folded over his chest, Yennefer glaring at him.

“What’s going on?” he asked gruffly.

Jaskier looked up at him for a split second before looking away, lips pursed.

“Jaskier, here, is being a child,” Yennefer spit. “I told him I don’t have the money for another room, so he’d have to stay with you.”

Geralt blinked once. He remembered, distinctly, Yennefer’s bulging bag of coins. “But I thought- ”

“Whatever,” Yennefer said, throwing her arms up. “Be children about it.”

Without waiting for a reply, she pushed Geralt out of the way and left the room. Geralt watched silently as Cirilla opened the door across the hall and Yennefer entered, closing the door with a slam.

“That was… weird,” Geralt said slowly.

Jaskier, predictably, did not reply. He hadn’t talked to Geralt in hours. Geralt turned and watched as Jaskier sat on the bed. He noticed quickly that the chain was still around his ankle, hanging freely.

Geralt swallowed the lump in his throat and walked over, kneeling.

Jaskier glared down at him. “What are you doing?” he asked harshly.

At least he was talking to him. Geralt looked up. “Let me help?”

“I- ” Jaskier seemed, just then, to remember the chain around his foot. “Fuck,” he said blandly. “Okay.”

Geralt assumed that was a good sign. He reached down and messed with it for a moment, using a light spark of magic from his fingertips to help. Finally, it was off. Geralt tossed it, not caring.

He looked up at Jaskier, who was staring down at him intensely.

“Let me help with- ” he gestured at Jaskier’s face.

Jaskier pressed his lips together. He was so used to Jaskier talking nonstop that being around him, like this, was unsettling. He nodded curtly at last and Geralt stood up.

He grabbed his bag and pulled out an old t-shirt, ripping it, followed by a few bottles of medicine.

Jaskier watched silently as Geralt walked back over and crouched in front of him. “Let me know if it hurts,” he said. Jaskier simply nodded, which was a reply, at least.

Folding up a small piece of fabric, he poured some medicine- for infections- onto it. Reaching up, he hesitated for just a second before brushing some hair out of Jaskier’s face.

Jaskier took a sharp, unexpected breath and he pulled his hand back. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “Just- do it.”

Geralt frowned but nodded, pressing the fabric against one of the fresh cuts on Jaskier’s face. Jaskier winced, but didn’t say anything.

“He should be dead,” he said, unable to help himself, “for doing this to you.”

Jaskier didn’t respond for a few minutes. Geralt sighed heavily and continued cleaning his face.

“Why- ” Jaskier cleared his throat and tried again. “Why do you care?”

Geralt’s hand stilled. “What?” he asked in disbelief, because wasn't it obvious?

“You… you pushed- no, no, you _shoved_ me away, Geralt.” He sniffed quietly and reached up, wrapping his fingers around Geralt’s wrist. Gently, he pulled his hand down, away, from his face. He didn’t let go, though, held it loosely. “Why’d you come back for me?” He smiled ruefully. “Wouldn’t your life be better without me in it?”

Geralt felt something, a sudden, sharp pain, in his chest. “Jaskier,” he said. “I was angry.”

Jaskier frowned, starting to look away but Geralt reached up with his other hand, gently cupping his face.

“I’m not excusing what I did,” he continued quickly. Jaskier chewed on his bottom lip, not saying anything, but he didn’t look away again. “I was… I was angry at the world and I wrongfully took it out on you.”

Jaskier nodded slowly. “Why?” he asked quietly. “Why _me?_ ”

Geralt shrugged. “Honestly?” Jaskier stared at him, waiting. “You were there,” he continued and it sounded so harsh, but it was the truth. “Jaskier, I’ve… never had a friend like that. A person who stood by me, no matter what. Even Yen, she was always coming and going. You were… well, the most constant thing in my life.”

“I know you think I just started following you for, like- inspiration for something,” Jaskier mumbled, lightly stroking the side of Geralt’s wrist with his thumb, “but I… I really did- do like you, Geralt.”

Geralt smiled, just a hint. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Jaskier smiled back. “You ever do that again, and it’s over for good.”

He deserved that. “Okay,” he agreed. He stared down at Jaskier’s hand, wrapped around his wrist. So warm and soft. Jaskier startled and let go, and Geralt was- unexpectedly disappointed. “I should probably tell Yen we won’t be killing each other tonight.”

Jaskier laughed softly. “She’ll be so disappointed. Oh. I- ” he fidgeted. “Was that- ”

“Cirilla?” Geralt finished knowingly. “Yeah, that’s her.”

Jaskier nodded and looked awed, almost. “I’m glad you found her.”

He thought of Cirilla, and the fact he might’ve never seen Jaskier again without her. “I am, too,” he said truthfully.

Geralt knocked on the door and waited. Cirilla opened the door a few seconds later.

“Did you- ” she asked excitedly.

Geralt reached out and ruffled her hair despite her protests. “We’re okay, Ciri.”

“Okay?” she mimicked, an odd look on her face. “ _Just_ … okay?”

He blinked at her. “Yes?”

Yennefer appeared around the corner. She stared at Geralt. “So?”

“We won’t be killing each other tonight,” he assured her blandly.

Yennefer squinted. “But you’ll be mauling each other in… _other_ ways, right?”

Geralt was too tired to even try and decipher Yennefer’s bullshit. “I’m going to sleep.” He turned and ruffled Cirilla’s hair again. “Goodnight.”

He heard them whispering again as the door closed behind him. Sighing, he shook his head. He’d deal with them in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok guys... it's the end and im rly sad bc the support on this fic has been amazing but gentle reminder/push to check out my other fics as i have a lot of other ongoing fics + upcoming fics <3
> 
> follow me on twitter @ queermight to keep up to date w my fics

Geralt woke up to an empty room. He looked around for Jaskier but the bard was nowhere to be seen, which was odd - he had a habit of waking him earlier than him. Witchers didn’t need much sleep, anyway.

At least he knew he wasn’t avoiding him, no longer angry after their talk last night.

Standing up, he walked out of the room. He had all intentions of going to the washroom when he noticed the door across the hall was cracked open.

Geralt’s first instinct was to be worried as he stepped closer.

“Cir - ” he started but cut himself off when he heard an unexpected voice.

“Wh - what are you talking about?” Jaskier was saying somewhere from inside the room.

Geralt blinked once. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t like Yennefer and Jaskier or even Cirilla and Jaskier were friends, so what could they possibly be discussing?

And besides it was their fault for not closing the door.

Leaning closer, he listened as Yennefer replied, “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Geralt’s skin prickled. What was going on?

“Yennefer,” Jaskier said, a bit harsh. “I think you’re projecting.”

There was a pause, a lull in the conversation. “You have feelings for him, Jaskier,” Yennefer said, surprisingly soft for her. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

Jaskier laughed harshly. “But not him,” he said. “Not the person who matters.”

“Because you won’t tell him,” she said. “Geralt is many things but he’s not very good at picking up signals. You need to _tell_ him.”

Jaskier huffed. “And what, potentially ruin one of the only relationships I have that I actually care about?” he said, sounding on the edge of hysterical. “I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

There was another even longer pause. “I think he has feelings for you, too.”

Geralt blinked again. There was no misreading their conversation. His heart thumped, feeling heavy in his chest. Jaskier had feelings for him? Since when? How did he never know?

“I didn’t want to do this, Jaskier, but tell him or I will.”

Geralt frowned, thoughts ignored in favor of anger. Yennefer had no right -

“You have no right!” Jaskier exclaimed and there was the screech of a chair being pushed back. “I don’t have to tell him anything and neither will you! That’s so - you’re so selfish!”

Yennefer sounded completely calm as she replied, “I’m trying to help two idiots understand each other better.”

“That’s not - that’s not fair,” Jaskier said, a little quieter. “I can’t lose him, Yennefer, don’t you _get_ that?”

“I’ll have you know I felt that way once, too.”

There was another pause and Geralt leaned closer to the door, listening intently, waiting.

“If you have - ”

“Had,” she corrected.

Jaskier sighed. “If you had feelings for him once, why are you doing this?”

“Did I not just say?” she shot back. “I may no longer feel the same way toward him but I still, despite his own idiocy, want him to be happy.”

For a long moment Jaskier was quiet - Yennefer, too. Even his inhuman senses were having a hard time picking up on anything. Geralt leaned in closer. It took two seconds, total, for everything to fall to shit.

Geralt slipped on the wood outside the door and fell forward, banging his head against the door with a groan. The door slammed open the rest of the way with a loud bang and he fell forward into the room, landing on the floor with another louder groan.

The sound of footsteps and when he looked up both Yennefer and Jaskier were standing over him.

“Geralt,” Jaskier said. “Um. Wh - what are you doing?”

Yennefer smiled, crossing her arms. “Were you… _eavesdropping_?”

“Um,” he answered lamely.

Yennefer looked at Jaskier. “I think you two need to have a conversation.”

“Yennef - ” Jaskier started sharply but she was already stepping over Geralt and leaving the room, closing the door.

Geralt stayed sprawled out on the floor for a second. He didn’t know what to do. Eventually, Jaskier crouched down and offered a hand. “Come on.”

Nodding, he accepted Jaskier’s hand and climbed to his feet. Thankfully, nothing hurt.

“Um. So. Ugh,” Jaskier whined. “Just - come here.”

He walked to the bed and Geralt followed, joining him. Jaskier stared down at his hands for a long, silent moment.

“How much did you hear?” he asked finally, quiet.

Geralt grunted. “Most of it, I think.”

“So… so you know?” Jaskier asked, looking up with wide, scared eyes.

One look at his expression and Geralt felt like his heart was being squeezed, almost bursting. “I think so,” he answered, swallowing. “You have feelings for me, Jaskier?”

Jaskier looked away. “I - yes, and I never had any intentions of telling you - ”

“Why not?” he interrupted, staring at him. “Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

Jaskier laughed, sharp and lacking of any real humor. “Do you really need to ask me that?” he said, a little harsh. “I didn’t want to ruin our relationship. Our friendship. And I know you, Geralt, you’ve made your feelings for me perfectly clear.”

Geralt blinked once. “Have I?” he asked, because as he sat there, looking at Jaskier’s pained expression and feeling almost sick, he started to wonder if he really had. “Jaskier, look at me.”

“I - fuck,” Jaskier mumbled, looking up at him. “Please,” he whispered, “just forget the whole thing. I want things to be normal between us again.”

Geralt stared into his eyes, a little wet with impending tears. “Jaskier,” he whispered.

“What?” he asked, sniffling.

Geralt thought of all the times he’d almost lost Jaskier, even when it was his own fault. Afterwards, he always pretended to be okay, calm and collected, but was he - really?

The fear he’d first felt, all that time ago, during the djinn, had been all-consuming. He would’ve done anything if it meant saving the bard and now, as he sat here, he wondered if there was a reason for that, deeper than your ordinary friendship.

“Jaskier,” he repeated.

Jaskier stared at him. “What?”

Lurching forward, he slammed their lips together. Geralt remembered what kissing Yennefer felt like - it’d been wonderful in its own right, her soft lips, the taste and smell of something sweet - but this was nothing like kissing Yennefer. Jaskier’s lips were rougher and he smelled, deeply, of a man.

After a few seconds, Jaskier pushed him away, glaring at him. “Geralt,” he said. “I - I can’t believe - what are you doing?”

Geralt licked his lips. “Kissing you?”

“No - no duh, you idiot,” he said, smacking his arm. “But why?”

Geralt pondered that for a moment. “Because I wanted to.”

Jaskier blinked once. He looked at a loss for words, maybe for the first time in his entire life. “Geralt, don’t,” he said finally, dead serious. “Do not kiss me. Unless you are absolutely sure this is what you want.” Geralt opened his mouth, but Jaskier just barreled on, “I - I can’t handle it if - if you do this just to decide the one you really want is Yennefer.”

Geralt’s fingers flexed in his lap, wanting to reach out for him. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Jaskier repeated. “So - ”

Geralt lurched forward again and cupped the back of Jaskier’s head with his hand, kissing him, slow and deep.

When they separated, Jaskier was clinging to the front of Geralt’s shirt, panting. He stared up at him. “Geralt, does this mean - ”

He didn’t even know what Jaskier was going to ask, but he knew the answer.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Jaskier smiled, slowly. Soon he was grinning, eyes sparkling. Geralt’s heart skipped a beat and it was in that moment, really, that he knew he’d made the right choice.

Yennefer threw the door open and startled them both. Geralt glared at her.

Cirilla peeked her head in, covering her eyes. “Is it safe?”

“Yes,” Yennefer replied, “for now.”

Cirilla moved her hands away and smiled brightly. “Did it work?”

“Did _what_ work?” Jaskier asked skeptically.

Yennefer smirked, folding her arms over her chest. “Oh, nothing.”

**Author's Note:**

> if u enjoy my fics please check out:  
> korrmin.tumblr.com/writing


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